


Worth the Wait

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Humanstuck, M/M, Smut, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 11:39:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You hate waiting for him to come home, and you make the best of the time you have with him.</p><p>(A Humanstuck AU where Dirk and Karkat live together and Dirk is a business man.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth the Wait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sugoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugoi/gifts).



> Hi so sugoi requested some Dirk/Karkat and wow here it is. I hope you like it!

You hate waiting. 

You always have, and you always fucking will. You guess it was your choice to be with a guy who was only home 2 weeks out of each month, but fuck. You hate the waiting.

It's 7:45 and you had a feeling when you woke up this morning that his plane would be late and lo and behold, his chicken parmesan is sitting on the table getting cold while you sit on your futon and wait. 

He was supposed to be home around 6:30. He had called you this morning from Seattle. He was there to discuss some shit you didn't care about with the Crocker Corporation, because apparently some of his friends in high places didn't like the way his brother slammed them in one of his weird, artsy hipster movies. Whatever. You really couldn't care less. All you want is for Dirk to hurry his ass home. 

You miss him. Then again, you miss him all the time. 

You hear the click of a key in the door, and you feel like a golden retriever or something. Let's face it; if you had a tail, it would be wagging right now.

The doorknob turns and he walks in, suit and tie on, briefcase in hand. You rush over to him, gripping him in a hug as hard as your meager upper body strength allows, pressing your face into the stiff fabric of his well-ironed blazer.

"Honey, I'm home," he murmurs ironically. Soon you feel his cheek on your unruly hair and his arms around you in a warm, safe embrace. 

"I made you dinner and you're fucking late. Why the fuck are you late? You know I hate it when you're late," you ramble a bit incoherently, considering your face is smooshed into his chest. 

"Cool it, babe," he says. You can never tell if the babe thing is ironic or not, and to be honest it drives you nuts. The fact that you can't figure it out, you mean. You actually kind of like it when he calls you that. You'd never tell him though. Fuck that. "There was a little delay, nothing to get in a tizzy about, sweetheart." You knew the sweetheart thing was ironic for sure. "I'm also not hungry, but thank you for making me dinner." You feel him lift his head away, and hear him sniff. "Smells good. Chicken parmesan?" You pull away and nod. "I'm totally saving that shit for later." You look up at him. His orange-ish eyes never fail to leave you breathless, especially when his gaze is on you like you're the most precious little thing in the world. 

With a little grin, he picks you up and sets you on the counter, despite your protests. "Oh my god, fuck you, seriously? I was so excited for you to come home and you- mmf." He kisses you with so much force you shut up and let yourself melt into him. When he pulls away, he's standing between your thighs and smirking at you and you remember that you're supposed to be mad. "I made you dinner and you don't want to fucking eat it and now you're setting me on the fucking counter like I'm 5 years old. Hey, stop that, I'm trying to be angry!" While you rant at him, he peppers kisses on your cheeks, jawline, forehead. You let out a little squeak when he kisses your neck, and he hums. "No fair," you mutter, squirming as he continues kissing your neck. 

He pauses for a moment to whisper in your ear. "You missed me." It isn't a question, and it sends shivers down your spine when his bottom teeth graze your earlobe before he gently nibbles it. Your thighs squeeze his hips, and his teeth bite down on your earlobe just hard enough to make you whine out in protest.

You push at him. "That fucking hurt you asswipe!" you yell at him. He doesn't even have the dignity to flinch from the loudness of your voice. He simply looks at you, and leans in ever so slowly, eyes fixed on yours, and grazes his lips across yours so softly you could have sworn it had been all in your imagination.

By the time he pulls away again, you're a half melted mess and you can't remember why you were mad at him anymore other than now you're mad because he made you forget why you were mad. You wish this didn't happen so much, but to be perfectly honest it happens almost every day. Well. Every day that he's here.

You are pathetic, but you really can't help it. You doubt anyone could really blame you.

The grin on his face is pure mischief and you can't help but grin back a bit timidly and you don't think you'll ever get used to his eyes and his kiss and his hands on your waist and your chest and your face and your hair. You love just this, you love him, and even if you can feel the strain against your zipper begging for more you would be okay with him kissing you halfway to hell on your kitchen counter all night. 

Cleary, he has other plans. He picks you up almost effortlessly, and you cling to him like a spider monkey. Your arms are around his neck, your legs are encircling his hips, and his hands are on your thighs. Your heated kiss doesn't break even as he carries you to your shared bedroom, and you're glad you kept the bedroom clean this time, otherwise he would have immediately stopped to chastise you about keeping clean living quarters yet again. You think you're going to fall when he moves his hand to turn the doorknob but is back to supporting your weight quickly before he sets you as gently as he can on the bed. He doesn't bother to turn the light on, which you don't really mind. 

He's standing in front of you, and you pull him down by him tie into another passionate kiss. His tongue knows yours like an old friend, but the dance they share is still fresh and beautiful and alive, and the way he tenderly nips your bottom lip makes you whimper for more. 

You fall back, taking him with you. He rests most of his weight on his forearms, hovering over you. His eyes are glinting and his quiet laughter fills the otherwise silent room. 

His face is only inches from yours. "You've got me here," he whispers,"Now what are you gonna do?" 

The way he teases you like this has always been your little game. You're both men of action, him maybe a bit more than you, and you're always trying to push each other. The only problem is you get flustered, and he knows which buttons to press faster than you can even tell you're being manipulated. 

You swear that that reason alone is how you two have even managed to get together. A little rivalry turned into somehow more than tolerating each other. You didn't really question it. But whatever. You could think about that sometime when you weren't kissing him aggressively, knuckles white as you grip the front of his unbuttoned blazer. 

You push him away, and he understands what you're trying to tell him. He pushes himself up into a standing position, throwing off his jacket and undoing his tie as quickly as he can. You stand in front of him, and as soon as his tie is off, you stand on your toes and reattach your lips to his, unbuttoning his shirt without looking. Your fingers only fumble a little, which you consider a small miracle considering how worked up you are right now. 

And it seems you aren't the only one worked up right now. You can feel Dirk's hardness just below your navel, and if you weren't turned on before, you certainly are now. His hands leave your body for the briefest moment and you barely hear the sound of fabric hitting the carpet before your back is on the bed again, and his weight is on you, the lump in his slacks is pressing even more insistently on you.

His hips are lined up with yours, and he ruts against you, and it feels like a shock has just run through you. You both moan simultaneously, although as usual, yours is louder and higher pitched and somewhat embarrassing. You try to be a little quieter this time, as he straddles you and ruts down into you again. You fail miserably. 

His lips curl into a smirk as his fingers slide from your waist to the hem of your shirt, lifting the fabric slowly. It's absolute torture going this slowly when all you want is as much skin on skin contact as you can get. You try to rip your shirt over your head so quickly you get stuck for a moment.

"Don't you dare fucking laugh you douchesniffing twat," you say angrily.

He laughs anyway. 

"Stop flailing around for a minute, here," you hear him say, and suddenly his sure hands are on your arms you have extended above your head. You stop moving and let him pull the damn thing over your head. As soon as you've escaped the clutches of your fabric captor, his face is there, his lips are back on yours sweetly.

You pull away and mutter,"I totally could have done that myself."

He eskimo kisses you for a minute before responding,"Of course. You can definitely hand every situation alone, all of the time. You never need help. Never ever." 

Goddamn his ever-present sarcasm. "You're an asshole."

"Yeah," he says simply before planting his lips back on yours, and you surrender to his touch once again.

You end up horizontal again, pinned under him, with your hands intertwined above your head, until he's running his hands down your arms, past your chest, your stomach, to your hips, lifting his own hips to get to the button and zipper on your jeans. It's about fucking time, you think. You lift your hips to help him in pulling down your jeans, and gasp as he pulls down your boxers as well, freeing your half hard cock. His hand is around your length, stroking you to full hardness before you have a chance to unzip his jeans, and you let out a moan against his mouth.

You manage enough control to unzip and unbutton his slacks, but he beats you to the punch, sliding down his own pants and briefs and standing before you in all his unclothed glory. 

You're sure you won't ever get over how gorgeous his body is. He's muscular, but it's natural, not the kind where you know he's spent hours at the gym each week to get to that point. His shoulders are broad, his hips narrow. You've only had a couple of years to get to know his body, but you intend to know every curve and bump and scar and angle, and you'll stop at nothing to get there.

He straddles you once more and as he shifts his hips, your cocks touch, sending another bolt of electricity through you, making you moan. Despite moaning himself, Dirk looks down at you with that slightly sarcastic smirk again, and you grab his shoulders and pull him down for another rough kiss before shoving him away. 

Chuckling, he gets off you to open a drawer from your bedside table. He removes a condom and a bottle of lube, and you're practically panting with excitement again. You stroke your length slowly to keep yourself hard, and to your surprise, he doesn't simply spread your legs. He walks over to the other side of the bed, and lies down. 

He tosses you the bottle of lube and says so casually you almost think you misheard him,"Finger yourself for me."

You're used to him being in charge in the bedroom, but usually he prefers to do things himself. This is a bit of a change of pace, and to be quite honest the idea of putting yourself on display like this is bringing a blush to your cheeks.

Without looking at him, you pick up the lube and squirt some of it on your finger. You dip your hand between your legs, pressing your lube covered finger into your entrance. You hiss at the initial sting, but before long you're able to add a second finger. 

When it starts to feel good enough that you almost forget you're being watched, Dirk pipes up suddenly. 

"What are you thinking about?"

It hadn't even occurred to you to think about anything, just the feeling of being stretched and the friction and how much you wished he was doing this to you, instead of you doing this to yourself. So you tell him just that.

"Good, good. Think about me."

You focus on thoughts of him, thinking of the dozens of times you'd fucked, you could barely keep your hands off him when you'd first gotten together and to be truthful it was a struggle even now. You find yourself whimpering, recounting the very moments he had had his fingers the same way you had yours now.

"You missed me when I was gone, didn't you, Karkat?"

"Of course," you answer immediately.

"Tell me how much you missed me."

"I missed you so so much, Dirk. I hate when you leave, you know I fucking hate it..."

"What did you miss about me?"

Now you see him stroking himself again before you answer. You add another finger, curling them and stretching yourself further. You moan again, increasing your speed.

"I missed everything about you. Everything. I miss you touching me, I miss touching you, fuck, I missed everything, Diiiirk..."

"Get over here."

You crawl over to him without hesitating, kissing him open mouthed and sloppy.

He pushes you away slightly. "Are you ready?" he asks. You nod, and he opens the condom package, rolls the condom on, and squeezes lube onto his palm before making his cock slick with it.

He crooks a finger at you, and you immediately know what he's asking of you, and you're practically tripping over yourself to comply.

You straddle him, and slowly sink down on his length, ignoring the burn in favor of savoring the delicious deepness of him filling you. You feel his hips against your ass, and you know you've taken him all in. You hear a long, drawn out groan. You open your eyes (you hadn't even noticed you'd screwed them shut) and see the raw wonder on his face as he looks up at you, drinking in every detail of you on top of him. 

You stay still for a moment, letting yourself adjust. When you're sure you can move, you lift yourself up, moaning when you drop back down. You repeat this process slowly, until neither of you can take this slow pace anymore. 

That's the one thing you always had when it came to pushing Dirk's buttons. He could be very patient, he could wait anyone out for any reason, but god, did he hate it. And when it came to a situation like this, he could barely stand it. So you used it against him constantly. It gave you a one up, not to mention that it personally benefited you. You don't particularly love waiting either.

He releases his grip on the sheets and grabs on to your hips, and you know you'll have bruises there tomorrow but you don't care. Thank goodness you're adjusted already, because he begins to pound into you, deep and hard in a steady rhythm, and you can't stop from keening and moaning.

Your eyes are screwed shut and you lean forward to grip his shoulders hard with your nails digging into his skin, and you can't bring yourself to care if you're drawing a bit of blood. The gasps mixed with the calls of your name erupting from his lips are a symphony, and you're the sweating, mewling conductor, and you just want him to touch you now but you know if he does you won't last another second.

He shifts, and suddenly he's thrusting into you more sharply, brushing against your prostate, and you practically scream out a,"Dirk!" without even thinking about it. 

"Oh, Karkat, I missed you so much," he manages to pant out, and you respond with a louder moan than usual.

You don't know how the hell he can form a coherent sentence right now, because you certainly can't. If you were standing, you would have collapsed by now, your knees would have turned to jelly and you're already melting on the spot.

His hips are starting to stutter, and you know he's close. Pressure has been building in your own stomach, and your hand reaches for your cock. You start to pump yourself to the same rhythm he's fucking you to, and you're so close, but his hips stutter and he lets out a muted moan, burying himself in you while he orgasm.

You stroke yourself faster, and clench around him as you come with a loud wail, throwing your head back. White ribbons of your cum streak his chest and stomach, and even a bit ends up on his neck. You both ride out your orgasms until you're too sensitive to contain him.

You lift yourself and he pulls out of you. As you roll off him, he pulls off his condom and ties it, throwing it on the floor. Oh well, he can get that later. You aren't touching that.

You both lie in the afterglow. You curl up and turn to face him. He does the same to you, and grabs your hands, lacing them with his. You're exhausted, and too overheated to cuddle, so this will do for now.

He starts to chuckle, and you look at him quizzically.

He leans forward, and plants the sweetest, most honest kiss you've ever experienced on your lips. He lingers there, pulling away only to rest his forehead against yours.

"Missed you, Karkat," he murmurs.

"Missed you too," you whisper back.

You might hate waiting, but fuck, he is worth the wait.


End file.
